


Obsession

by StrawberryWhorecake



Series: The Inquisitor's Lion [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryWhorecake/pseuds/StrawberryWhorecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artemisia Trevelyan is finding it hard to resist the Commander, but she finds it even harder to talk to him.<br/>A short (sort of canon) retelling of some pathetic attempts at flirting and a kiss. SFW</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession

“We should spend more time together.” Artemisia said softly.

She caught him off guard. In the past he dismissed her comments as idle flirtations, mere politeness. Any romantic implications he imagined were simply that—imaginings of his overworked mind; a mental break from the hectic demands of his post. Cullen often found himself in the lonely hours of the morning thinking of things that could never be, Images and scenes that would exist nowhere outside his mind.

He longed to run his bare fingers through her amber hair, to taste the soft curve of her neck; he wanted to lay gentle kisses along each of the freckles that dotted her rosy cheeks. Artemisia couldn’t have known that her suggestion would send these belligerent thoughts to the center of his thoughts. Cullen shifted uncomfortably in his seat while willing his mind to focus.

“I would like that.” He managed to stutter out, barely aware that he had spoken. He willed his body to cooperate, to focus on the game, to stop looking for hidden meanings in her speech, her looks, her gestures. He was unable to take his eyes off her. Artemisia shyly looked up at him from beneath her eyebrows.

“Me Too.” Her cheeks reddened instantly. Her brows knit together as she looked away quickly. She chewed on her bottom lip as she eyed the board keenly. Cullen groaned inwardly. The small habit of the Inquisitor became a personal obsession with him. There was no way she could know how it affected him. Cullen wanted to take her face in his hands, part her lips and lave the tender skin. He imagined her eyes darkening with desire, her breathing becoming heavier. He tried to picture what her pink lips might look like when they were swollen from his kisses.

“You said that.” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. It was hard for Cullen to accept that this was real, and not just a deluded fantasy. He drew the line the moment she accepted the post. Before the attack on Haven he allowed the fleeting thought to occupy his mind. But now. Now there was a war, she was the leader of an army, and he beneath her. Cullen knew in that very moment that to want anything else would be selfish.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “We should finish our game. I believe it was my turn.”

 

                Artemisia sat alone in the library, hoping no one would notice her. She leaned her elbows on the desk and stared at the dusty pages of an ancient tome. To the casual passerby it might appear as though she was deeply entranced by the book, but her mind was elsewhere. She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

                She made such an ass of herself in front of Cullen. She couldn’t count all the stupid things her mind conjured up when they spoke. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of the chess game. He probably thought she was ridiculous. To him she was just another woman shamelessly throwing herself at him. Maker knows how many women Artemisia had seen fling themselves into his path. For Cullen she was just another one of the herd.

                She could not think straight when he was around. Everything he did affected her: His crooked smile, his throaty laugh, the constant layer of stubble on his cheeks and neck. His overpowering scent when he was near her; a heady mixture of leather and musk. And then there was the way he looked at her, she couldn’t tell what it was that she saw in his eyes, it was as though he could see through her skin, to the core of her being. She felt lightheaded just standing near him. He stood proud and strong at all times, he exuded the type of confidence she never gained growing up as the youngest Trevelyan.

                The smell of the timeworn book filled her nostrils as she laid her head upon the pages, defeated.

                “A strange way to read, but If you are interested in bad literature I could recommend something better than ‘Sister Gloriana’s Ode to the Maker’s Oak.’”

                Artemisia jumped. Dorian laughed as he sat in the chair opposite.

“Such as this.” He held up a book titled “Swords and Shields.”

“It is positively the worse thing I have ever read.”

Artemisia laughed, glad for the distraction. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

He grinned smugly. “You’re right. The sight of you and the Commander playing chess is far more humiliating, even for me.”

Artemisia groaned as she laid her head back on the sepia toned parchment. “You saw that?” She murmured against the book.

“Most of it.” He said thumbing through the small volume in his hands. “I didn’t know faces could turn that red.”

Artemisia could hear the laughter in his voice but refused to meet his gaze. She sighed.

“You must think I am pathetic.” She said.

“No, my friend, just a little despaired.” He rustled through the pages. “I keep seeing the word ‘pikestaff.’ Is that a euphemism?”

He put down the book and turned to face her. “The point is, I don’t want to see you here lying on books. Partially because this is my alcove, but mostly because you will never accomplish anything like this.”

She looked up at him wordlessly. Dorian continued. “Where is the woman that brought down a Tevinter Magister? Where is the woman who was ready to sacrifice herself for Haven? What happened to all that confidence?”

“Those were things that happened in the heat of the moment, when there was no time to think or second guess myself. The noise and the action kept every other thought at bay. But now, when it’s quiet, I just hear all the people who pointed out my faults. My family, who never thought I would amount to anything other than a Chantry cleric at best. My mother and my sister, they were always disappointed in me.”

Dorian said nothing for a moment. “I can think of a few hundred people right now who are not disappointed in you, Inquisitor, People who would not have their lives without you.” He laughed. “Now listen to me! I hate being dramatic.”

Artemisia smiled sadly. “Liar.”

“Am I that transparent?”

Artemisia stood and sighed. “Alright.”

“What are you going to do?” Dorian inquired.

“I have no idea.” She said as she left.

 

Artemisia found herself outside the commander’s door some time later. The sun was setting over the mountains. Soft hues of fuchsia and indigo stretched across the sky. The air grew icier as the darkness settled in. She vigorously rubbed her arms to keep warm. _It’s probably warm inside Cullen’s office._ She thought. _Go inside, imbecile._ She knocked quietly on the door, part of her hoping for no answer, but his unfaltering voice called out in a tone that sent shivers down her spine. “Enter”

She pushed open the heavy wooden door. His back was turned to her; he was bent over his desk, hastily scrawling a message for the waiting courier.

“What did you need?” He asked briskly over his shoulder. She faltered for a moment, taken aback by his tone.

“I uh…” She began, “If this is a bad time…”

Cullen turned quickly, surprise marred his face. “Inquisitor!” He said. His tone instantly softened.

“Did you…er...did you need something?”

Artemisia opened her mouth but the words refused to come out. She shut her mouth quickly and bit her bottom lip to avoid saying anything stupid. Cullen furrowed his eyebrows and shifted his feet slightly. Artemisia shook her head and turned to leave.

“Wait!” He said pleadingly. “I…uh…” He grabbed the missive from his desk and forcibly handed it to the soldier. “Go.” He said tersely before turning back to Artemisia. The young man hurried from the room.

Cullen moved closer to her. “Is everything alright?” He extended his hand slightly before stopping himself. Artemisia couldn’t stand it. He was too close. Too tall. He smelled too good. His brows furrowed over his deep brown eyes. Concern marred his features. She was overwhelmed. She closed her eyes to try to stop his assault on her senses. But it did nothing. She could _feel_ him standing near her. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her legs felt weak beneath her. She leaned back against the door. Trying to regain some sense of composure that she knew she had within her. She inhaled deeply and forced herself to look at him.

“Is something wrong, Inquisitor?” His voice was low, so deep she could feel the vibrations in her body. She shook her head.

“Everything is fine.” She said quietly, unable to break his gaze. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Alright.” He nodded offering nothing more. She drew in a breath.

“I can’t…You’re always…Bloody hell.” She broke their gaze and studied the floor. She chewed her lip.

“Artemisia…” His voice was low and heavy. Never before had she heard him speak her name, and now he said it in as though it were honey on his lips. A million thoughts spun around in her head. She barely noticed that he moved closer, his face so near to her own. The thoughts in her mind slowly dissolved as he moved closer. She could almost feel the untrimmed beard on her cheek when the door behind her began to open, moving her along with it. She felt her body thrust against his before he slammed it shut with one movement.

“Go Away!” He shouted. He was closer still. His outstretched arm so near her head she could rest on it. His voice was low and soothing when he spoke again to her.

“What did you want to say?” He asked. His other arm was now hooked around her waist, drawing her in closer. Her doubt and fears ravaged her mind. She forced them away.

“I think about you.” She finally spat out. “Almost every moment of every day.”

“Oh?” He said as the side of his mouth kicked up. He sighed as a cloud passed over his gaze.

“I can’t say that I haven’t thought of it. Of what could be…but…”

“But what?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled away, but only slightly, as though pulled close by some mystical force.

“You’re the Inquisitor. We’re at war. Any hopes I may have had once I gave up that day in the courtyard.”

Artemisia narrowed her eyes.

“But here we are.” She said.

“Yes.” He said hoarsely, his eyes darkening.

Silence fell between them. In that hollow her thoughts resurfaced. Doubt. Fear. Insecurity. All the things her mother said to her as a young woman. Every time she spoke out of turn. Every time she stumbled, every time her speech faltered, every hideous memory that reminded her of how she could never be good enough. Rejection had become a part of her life, and it seems that it would not leave her, not even here.

She broke their gaze; Artemisia could no longer look at him. The fragment of confidence that she accrued vanished. Her face burned at the thought that a man such as him could be interested in her. Why would he? He was strong, loyal, determined and countless women flocked around him. Who was she who could compare? A woman forced into circumstance by fate who had yet to die? Her impulses in the heat of the moment had led them here, but she could not help but feel like a fraud.

“I’m sorry.” She said, “I’m making a fool of myself. I should go.”

                She intended to leave, to flee his office and run for her own bedroom. She wanted to hide until she could show her face again. She never did. His arm at her waist held her fast. His lips found hers and the world melted away. His kiss was soft, but determined. His lips warm, but unyielding. All thought drained from her mind and she found herself wrapping her arms around him. His hand cradled her face as though it were some precious object made from crystal, as though it may break if handled too roughly. His fresh stubble brushed against her cheeks; she smiled at the feel of it.

                Cullen pulled away slowly and she recognized the fear in his eyes. She felt it too.

                “I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “That was…really nice.” He grinned slightly.

                “You don’t regret it, do you?” She asked.

                “No.” He said quickly, looking appalled at the thought. “Not at all.”

                The words were merely a whisper as he lowered his face to hers. Artemisia met him halfway. Her arms looped around his neck as her fingers intertwined in his hair. She reveled in the feel of his soft curls as his kiss filled her with fire.

                Cullen traced his tongue slowly along her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, allowing him entrance. He moaned as their tongues met. His assault on her mouth was slow and sensual. Her body shook and her legs faltered beneath her, if Artemisia had not been held up by the door she would have fallen. She matched his efforts as he clung to her waist, his gloved hand digging into the soft flesh beneath her tunic.

                Artemisia broke the kiss to gasp for air. Cullen did not quit so easily. He moved lower, laying gentle kisses on her chin, her neck and her shoulder. His lips and tongue left a trail of fire in their wake. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the door. He angled her head gently as he kissed her neck. Igniting fires and salving the tender flesh with his tongue. She squirmed beneath him.

                “Cullen,” She whispered, her voice broken with desire. Neither of them heard the West door open.

“Commander, There…” The voice cut off abruptly in a gasp before the door slamming shut.

“ _Shit_.” It said quietly from the other side.

Cullen stilled but he did let her go. He held her close to him while they waited for their breathing to resume a normal pattern

“Who was that?” He asked quietly.

Artemisia laughed. “That was Cassandra.”

Cullen laughed quietly. His deep voice sending vibrations through her body. “It is only a matter of time now.” He said. “Soon everyone will know.”

Artemisia opened her eyes and met his gaze. His cheeks were red. His lips moist. His eyelids were heavy with desire. She knew the answer to the question before she asked. “Will that bother you?”

He gave her a half smile. “No.”

Artemisia grinned as she cupped his face before giving him one last quick kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Never fear! Things will heat up soon!


End file.
